


Why So Serious?

by castielsstarr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Bottom Dean, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fear Play, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Roleplay, Sub Sam Winchester, Top Sam, previously agreed upon noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a Halloween surprise for Sammy. I'm still bad at writing summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why So Serious?

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, the boys are in an established relationship, they previously discussed this and they DO have safewords. It just didn't need to come up in the fic itself.
> 
> This is my first attempt at anything like fear!kink or blood play, soooo I'm sorry if that is not great.
> 
> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship Sideblog: [wingedwincest](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)

The trail of the knife against the inside of his leg made Sam shiver violently under the point. It dug just barely into his skin from ankle, calf, knee, thigh, almost all the way up to the connection of his hip. A faint scratch appeared where the knife made contact.

But Sam couldn’t see it because of the black cloth that was wrapped tight around his eyes.

A voice tsked above him where he was splayed out on… something that didn’t quite feel like a bed. It was hard underneath his back, but covered with something soft, a blanket maybe. Sam didn’t have much room to move; the ties on wrists and forearms, ankles and calves only gave about an inch. He pulled against the bindings—a thin rope wrapped repeatedly around his appendages—it was starting to frighten Sam a little. He didn’t like being restrained, without the freedom to protect himself.

Sam tilted his head back as the edge of the knife pressed against his adam’s apple. He swallowed hard when the pressure followed his movement. If he was to press up even the tiniest bit, the edge of the blade would slice through his skin. Was it bad that he wanted it? Pain, blood, and pleasure were always an odd mixture for Sam. He couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

“You know you’re not going anywhere, so why bother fighting? You’re here until I’m done with you.” The voice hissed close to his ear. His brother’s voice. Fuck. Dean only took on that tone when he was pissed. When he was willing to hurt, maim… or worse. Was Dean willing to do any of that to him? A light tremble took over Sam’s hands as he pulled against the ropes again.

By sound alone, Sam could identify the sharp thud as Dean slammed the knife into the surface next to his head. Wood, he was definitely resting on wood. “Yeah, go on and struggle all you want. It still won’t do you any good.” The tone just wasn’t right. It was hardened, seething. This wasn’t his Dean.

He didn’t know what he had done to warrant that voice. Sam was always a very responsive sub—he tried to follow directions to a tee, never talked back unless that was something Dean wanted that day. But this? He had no clue. He had no clue and it was starting to scare him. He could feel his stomach fluttering and his nerves continuously shook.

Dean’s hot breath was on Sam’s ear, stubble rubbing lightly against his cheek, as the tip of the knife rested against the muscle of his groin. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Sammy?” Sam went to answer, but the words caught in his throat and all that came out was a small whimper. The knife dug in a little, just enough to barely puncture the skin.

“I asked you a question.”

Sam gasped loudly as the pain, in combination with Dean’s threatening behavior, got mixed up in his head and the neurons fired telling his dick to swell. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re going to do to me.”

“I’m going to take you. Do whatever I want to that beautiful body of yours. And if you don’t cooperate with me?” Dean nipped sharply at Sam’s earlobe and the knife slid slightly down his thigh, opening a two-inch gash. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, I’m going to flay your pretty little stomach to ribbons.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sam was in some really deep shit. He squirmed again. Would Dean actually do that? Would he hurt him?

“We clear?”

Sam nodded, blind to anything in the room. The clenching in his gut only got worse and he didn’t know whether it was due to the partial erection he was sporting or the panic that kept lacing through his body, even though he tried to fight it. He could keep calm. He had to. Dean wouldn’t really injure him.

Sam flinched away as he felt the blade against his cheek. To his surprise, Dean dug the blade in and dragged it down along Sam’s cheekbone. “Ah, fuck!” The cut began to seep and Dean’s lips were on the cut immediately. Licking, sucking the blood into his mouth before parting Sam’s lips with a tongue coated in bitter red.

Dean was unpredictable and Sam’s heart was pounding. His blood was rushing through his entire body; he could feel his pulse in every open wound. God, if Sam didn’t lick up into that kiss, though.  The slickness and heat of his own blood filled his mouth mixing with saliva. It shouldn’t have been arousing, but it was.

His brother pulled away and left him with no sensation. No touch, no sound.

“D-Dean?” No response. “Dean, where are you?”

“Right here, Sammy.” His breath ghosted hot over Sam’s balls before his teeth followed, a barely-there drag over the thin skin.

“Oh god, Dean. Please don’t.” Sam whined out.

“Why, baby boy? You think I’m going to hurt you?”

Sam’s stomach flipped. The hardened tone from before was now all-but emotionless. “Y-yes,” he barely breathed out the word.

That tsking came again, the sound and the breath making its way up Sam’s body. “Didn’t I teach you to always trust me?” Sam could feel knees digging in around his hips, nudging up toward his waist. The knife was back, tip trailing lightly over the inside of his thighs again, this time edging up an inch too close to the more sensitive parts. His breath kept catching in his throat on the inhale. It was as if he could choke on it. Dean whispered against skin that was beginning to sheen over with nervous sweat. “I know what’s best for you.”

Which was not the same as saying Dean wouldn’t hurt him.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but was almost immediately silenced into a gasp when he felt a tight, slick warmth squeeze over his hardened dick. Without a second to gather himself, that heat dragged up to drop back down again. Sam stayed silent of intelligible speech, only moaning and whining, unable to reach the words he needed.

“You’ll take exactly what I give you, won’t you?” Sam just bit his lip to stifle another groan as Dean continued to fuck himself down onto Sam’s cock. “Answer me!”

“Yes. Dean, y-yes.” Sam’s voice was small and his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

“You’ll take my pretty hole, right, brother? Fill it up with your come?”

Sam didn’t know what to do—how to respond. All he could manage to do was shake his head. He didn’t know what he was saying no to, just that it was the singular response he could make.

“No? Come on, Sammy, you can do it. Trust me.” Dean sped up his pace, changing between rolling his hips and bouncing his freckled ass hard against Sam’s upper thighs.

Sam whined loudly. “Oh god, Dean. No, no, please.”

“You want some help, Sammy?” Dean’s tone was wicked, only serving to confuse Sam.

Seconds later, light flooded his vision as the blindfold was ripped from his face. All he could see was bright light in his peripheral and then Dean’s face, a garish mixture of blood, scarring and white paint. Sam’s entire body locked, as his muscles went rigid. Partially from the fear, partially from the orgasm that was ripped unwillingly from him.

But, god, it felt fucking amazing. His heart was beating harder than it had on any hunt and his head was spinning. He was too caught up in his own head to be able to consider helping Dean out, but Sam soon felt him spill over his stomach.

Dean pulled off and started laying kisses to Sam’s arm and shoulder, still caught up in the rope bindings. “Happy Halloween, Sammy.”

“Oh my god. It’s almost half way through November already, you jerk. Please just take off the clown makeup.”

Dean laughed. “The Joker isn’t a clown, Sam.”

“It’s close enough,” He grumbled.


End file.
